


Hold Me Up, Make Me Fall

by caleyedoscope



Series: Faerlamore [3]
Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleyedoscope/pseuds/caleyedoscope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Yoochun turns nine, his father gives him a slave; he means for Yoochun to learn a lesson, but the slave becomes more than either of them could have ever guessed. Unfortunately, only Yoochun is happy about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Up, Make Me Fall

**Author's Note:**

> specific warnings: spanking (and not always the hot kind, tho there’s some of that, too), forced kissing and touching. (but there’s a happy ending? and a lot of sex.

When Yoochun turns nine, he meets Junsu for the first time. He’s sniffling, eyes puffy as he wipes his nose on a dirty sleeve and doesn’t look Yoochun in the eye. Yoochun wants to give him a hug. 

“This is Junsu,” his father tells him, face cold and unforgiving as always, “he is a slave and he belongs to you now, Yoochun. Take responsibility for him.”

His father leaves, whispering something into Junsu’s ear and giving him a firm smack on his bottom that has Junsu crying out before the King finally leaves. The slave sniffs again, loudly, and clutches at his rear. Yoochun may only be nine, but he doesn’t need to be any older to understand that Junsu doesn’t want to be here. Junsu is being forced to be here.

Yoochun feels terrible about it. “I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of his mouth, when he’s sure his father isn’t at the door listening. “I’m sorry you were brought here. You probably miss your family.”

Junsu glares at him. “They’re dead. They died of a fever and I was whisked away and I didn’t—” he looks to be on the verge of tears. “Never mind.”

Yoochun swallows, taking a step forward. “You didn’t get to say goodbye. I’m sorry.” He may not like his father, but he respects him enough that he can imagine it would be sad for him to die and not be able to be there in his last moments.

The slave’s chin trembles. 

“Would you like a bath?” Yoochun offers, “some warm clothes? Food?”

Junsu eyes him suspiciously. 

“I can at least give you that.”

People tell Yoochun he is mature for his age, that his speech and comprehension are beyond those of his years. Perhaps they’re right, but Yoochun believes everyone is capable of being like him and he’s well aware that the only reason they aren’t is because they are not as privileged. They are poor or diseased or just plain unfortunate, without the support of a father or money to educate their minds. He’d only just recently had this revelation, and he’d bent his mind on absorbing all he could in place of them. If he is to be king someday than he will be the greatest king his people will ever know. Perhaps that starts with taking care of one person. One slave.

Junsu finally nods.

Yoochun calls for it all himself. He winces when he helps his new slave to take off his clothes and sees his reddened bottom, no doubt a product of the King, but doesn’t say anything except to ring for something medicine as well. He can’t recall the name of it, but when his kindly old servant shows up and he explains the problem as best he can, she pats his head and tells him she knows exactly what they need.

The water is a comfortable temperature as Yoochun helps Junsu into it and he gets in afterwards, reaching for a cloth and some soap, scrubbing gently at the slave’s skin. He doesn’t comment when he starts to cry in earnest, but he pauses a moment, petting his hair before he wets it and washes out the dirt. He doesn’t even get any soap in Junsu’s eye, like how his nurses used to with him when he was younger. They stay in the tub until the water cools and Yoochun gets out first, drying himself hurriedly and slipping on a robe before helping Junsu out. He pats him down with a fluffy cloth and then directs him to lay on the bed. For a moment, Junsu looks petrified. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” Yoochun smiles. “I can see my father did enough of that already.”

The oils his servant had brought him make Junsu hiss at first, but soon he’s calm, tears gone and Yoochun eases him into some of his own clothing until something can he brought that is fitting of the slave’s position. There’s a possibility of Junsu becoming an important part of Yoochun’s life, a Faerlamore like the one his father has, but Yoochun knows it’s not that easy. There will be candidates, tests, that sort of thing. He’d very much like for Junsu to be a candidate, and as they settle easily into bed, too tired for food, the very young Yoochun resolves to make sure Junsu is one of them.

The next morning, Yoochun wakes to a loud roar, and to his horror, finds his father standing at the base of his bed, fingers digging into Junsu’s arm and hauling him onto the cold floor.

“Father!”

“You think you can care for him? You think I meant that you got to feed him your food and clothe him in your robes and—what is this? Healing oil? You are a prince,” his father screams, “you leave these things to servants!”

“You said he was my responsibility!”

“You are not his servant. Get out of the bed!”

Junsu’s crying, hands over his mouth as he tries to muffle the sound, still held firmly by his arm.

“Father,” Yoochun entreats.

“You are young. You don’t understand the concept of a slave, that’s fine. Now you learn. They are to be used. We don’t love them. We don’t care for them. We _use_ them. We are firm with them, and I explained this to him last night, did I not?” The King says this to Junsu, “I told you how to behave. I told you what would happen if you didn’t.”

Junsu lets out a muted sob and Yoochun feels dread creep into his stomach.

“Stand by the fireplace, Yoochun. Now.”

Yoochun swallows, doing as he’s told, watching in growing horror as his father sits on a chair in front of him and hauls Junsu over his lap, the young boy trying to kick his way off.

“Please don’t,” Yoochun finds himself whispering, “please don’t hurt him. I’ll treat him like a slave, I promise.”

“You will,” his father agrees, “because every time you don’t, this is what is going to happen.”

After the first strike, Yoochun has to close his eyes.

— 

When Yoochun is sixteen, his father presents him with two more slaves. They’re nothing in comparison with Junsu, who follows Yoochun around like an obedient slave should. Since that fateful morning of a severe and unpleasant spanking for both of them, he has not once purposefully stepped out of line.

This has never stopped Yoochun’s father from finding an excuse to lay a hand on Junsu’s bottom, or as he grew older take a belt to him, always with Yoochun watching.

Yoochun hates it. He hates his father, hates that he picks on Junsu, and doesn’t understand why he was given to him in the first place, though he is strangely grateful. Junsu is his only bright point in life, the only thing Yoochun wakes up to see in the morning, the only thing that can calm him enough to sleep at night.

For the past four years, Yoochun has been grooming Junsu, well aware of what a good Faerlamore will need to know and secretly giving him lessons late into the night. Language, writing, music, cooking, all the things he will be tested on in later years. If his father knows, he’s said nothing, and Yoochun’s not sure if that’s a good thing or bad.

Yoochun knows Junsu is more than ready, but these two—he gives them a shrewd once over—he’s not really sure. It would be just like his father to know exactly what Junsu is capable of and pick two others that outwardly seem incapable but are in fact more than worthy of the title.

Ultimately, the person to fill the position of Faerlamore is Yoochun’s decision, but only out of candidates which pass all the subjects with flying colors. If Junsu doesn’t pass, Yoochun doesn’t know what he’ll do.

“You’re going to be great,” Yoochun whispers, as they wait for the council members to call him inside for the start of the Faerlamore tests. “And when you come out you’re going to be my Faerlamore. And no one will be able to hurt you ever again.”

It’s both of their wishes, and in fact the only thing Junsu has ever wanted.

“I love you,” Junsu confesses, seconds before he leaves, “with everything that I am.”

“I know,” Yoochun says, “and that’s why you’re going to pass.”

Five hours later, Junsu walks out the last candidate standing. 

Yoochun very nearly cries, and it’s only the sight of his father, tight-lipped and arms crossed, that allows Yoochun to hold his head high and accept Junsu’s formal bow with dignity.

“I live to serve,” Junsu whispers to the stone floor, though it can be heard throughout the hall by all the councilors and nobles that had shown up for the reveal of the Prince’s Faerlamore. The new prince, for all intents and purposes.

“Come,” Yoochun beckons.

There is a lot to be done. They must design a tattoo, make up official documents and sign them, talk about what Yoochun wants and what Junsu needs. Junsu will now spend hours honing his skills and learning new ones, have his own official tutors until there is no more room in his brain for any information.

When they’re alone in Yoochun’s rooms, Junsu presses forward and grasping Yoochun’s cheeks in his hands, kisses him full on the mouth. Yoochun doesn’t have time to respond. “What was that?”

“A promise.”

“A promise?”

Junsu blushes. “You’ve taken such good care of me. When we come of age, I promise I will do the same.”

“Junsu-yah.”

“Say you’ll let me. Please say that you’ll allow me do that for you. Please.”

Yoochun is stunned. As Faerlamore, it’s of course expected. But Junsu wants him to want it, wants Yoochun to want _him_ , and not just because of a shiny new title. “Of course I’ll allow you,” he whispers, and pulls Junsu in for a kiss of his own. “I will never be able to tell you no.”

— 

When Yoochun comes of age, so does Junsu, though he is younger. Junsu is an extension of the prince and so therefore things that used to belong to Junsu, like birthdays, are now of no consequence. He ages when the prince does.

He sits at Yoochun’s feet at a celebratory feast, back to the rest of the room so he only ever looks at Yoochun. Junsu _is_ Yoochun. He sleeps and wakes with Yoochun, he eats meals and skips meals with Yoochun. He bathes with Yoochun. He cannot touch himself without first getting Yoochun’s permission.

He has been the perfect Faerlamore, not giving even one inch of room for the King to express his displeasure.

Yoochun picks up a piece of meat, the best piece on his plate, uncaring of his father’s angry gaze, and slides it easily in between Junsu’s lips, happy when his eyes light up. “Good?” He asks, and lets Junsu take a sip of wine from his own goblet.

“Yes, Master.”

He looks beautiful tonight. His skin is glowing, polished perfection under the oils and powders spread across it, cheekbones shimmering underneath the light. His eyes are lined with black, something he’d taken to doing when he’d heard through the grapevine that Yoochun’s father disapproved. Yoochun likes this Junsu. He likes that since the King can no longer come at Junsu for any minor discretion he pleases, Junsu can find little ways to irritate him that aren’t actually against the law. This is a sexy Junsu, and Yoochun finds more often than not, he’s incredibly turned on.

He chooses a slice of peach from the array on the table and holds it to Junsu’s lips, very nearly biting off his tongue as Junsu accepts the fruit and licks the juices from Yoochun’s fingers, sucking on the tip of Yoochun’s thumb for a nanosecond before letting go.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” the prince manages, wiping his fingers onto a napkin carefully.

Yoochun feeds himself and Junsu until they’re both full. The plates and food and tables are lifted away in minutes by sturdy slaves and servants, and one by one the court get up to present the Faerlamore Prince with gifts. Junsu doesn’t look at them, doesn’t turn around to acknowledge them, keeping his back straight as he looks at Yoochun, always only at Yoochun, and the Prince accepts the gifts on his behalf.

Most are jewelry, the more beautiful ones Yoochun gives directly to Junsu to wear right away: rings, bracelets, anklets, earrings. They’re gifted with cloth, cotton and silk dyed in extravagant colors. A little girl no more than three toddles up to Yoochun after bowing and hands him a chain of flowers she’d fashioned into a crown. The King scoffs loudly enough for the whole court to hear, making the girl flinch, but Yoochun reaches out to pat her on the head and reassure her that it’s a beautiful crown and that Junsu will cherish it. He places it on Junsu’s head and his Faerlamore’s smile has never been wider or more beautiful.

Yunho’s smirking when he comes up to give Yoochun his gift, and the prince peaks in the bundle before letting anyone see. His best friend is a devious bastard when he wants to be, and he _does_ keep company with Heechul, after all. Junsu looks curious when Yoochun doesn’t lift the contents of Yunho’s present out, but the court does not need to know about the numerous pots of oils Yunho had bought and Yoochun fights to keep a blush from his cheeks and his heart rate down as he rolls his eyes at Yunho. Secretly, he’s incredibly grateful, and his friend knows it.

Junsu’s blush, when he sees what the tiny pots hold, is beautiful.

The King does not offer a gift, but Yoochun hadn’t expected one. It’s clear Yoochun’s choice is not in the King’s favor, but according to their tradition and rules, he can’t do anything about it. Yoochun is eternally grateful.

After all, Yoochun knows himself better than anyone, and choosing someone to be an extension of his body is too important of a decision to delegate to anyone else.

They leave together, knowing full well the servants will take care of the gifts, though Yoochun palms two of the pots from Yunho, smuggling them into his robes. Just in case. “Saw that,” Junsu whispers, as they both nod to a pair of serving girls that stop mid step to bow as they pass.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Yoochun says, nose in the air. But his hand tightens in Junsu’s.

They lay chastely on the bed for awhile, Yoochun feeling like he’d just gotten married and was having a very awkward wedding night. It shouldn’t be this weird. This is _Junsu_. His best friend, even though it isn’t at all allowed. They’ve always been able to talk about everything. Well. Everything except this.

“Tell me a secret.”

Junsu rolls on his side. He pillows his cheek on a hand. It’s adorable. “A secret?”

“Something about you I don’t know.”

“You know everything about me.”

Yoochun pouts. 

“Yoochun—“ Junsu laughs, airy and high like how Yoochun love, and he scoots forward more, pressing their foreheads together. “Do you really want to talk?” His finger trails down Yoochun’s cheek and his legs tangle with Yoochun’s and his smile is _so pretty_ , Yoochun almost starts to cry because _it’s his_. Everything about Junsu is now his, belongs to him, and there’s no one living or dead that can ever harm him again.

“I’m so happy I can protect you.”

The smile fades a bit, Junsu swallowing, licking him lips, eyes suspiciously misty before the grin is back full force. “Me too.”

The seconds pass in a blur of heart beats that nearly destroy Yoochun’s ears and then they’re kissing. Yoochun’s never really kissed before, aside from a few kitchen girls and that one busty court maiden when he was confused about how the sight of Junsu’s lips made him tingle all over, but Junsu—Junsu’s a Faerlamore. Junsu’s been _trained_ in this, as much as Yoochun doesn’t want to think about it, and fuck does he know how to make a simple kiss feel so amazing.

And fine, Yoochun thinks, so maybe he’s read a few illicit books and talked to Yunho and Heechul. It’s not like Yoochun’s entirely clueless. He wants to make Junsu feel good, wants to make Junsu feel like this is the only place he’ll ever need to be. But Junsu is so good with his mouth. He makes Yoochun feel incredibly useless.

“Hey,” Junsu pouts, when they part to pull each other clothes off, “stop thinking so much, it’s fine. This is all fine.”

“I know! I know, I just—“ Yoochun’s blushing. 

The very cute pout closing in on his mouth suddenly stops and turns into a smile. There’s also a giggle. “Are you really the Prince? The man that walks the court ladies back to their chambers and sends flowers to their doors on their birthdays? The one that gallantly helps them onto horses and tells them they’re doing great with a bow an arrow after they almost shoot themselves in their feet?”

“They’re not you,” Yoochun says. Gods, he is an idiot. This is not how it’s supposed to be. He’s the master, he’s the one that supposed to be cool and calm and collected and give Junsu specific and direct orders that result in punishment if they’re not followed. Or something. They’ve never really adhered to that policy much.

“You promised me,” Junsu reminds him, as his hands slide underneath Yoochun’s shirt, “you promised I could take care of you. Let me.”

Junsu’s mouth fastens itself onto Yoochun’s collarbone, teeth nipping a line of red down on, tongue soothing the mark and Yoochun can’t focus his eyes. He has to shut them, breathe in hard through his nose as Junsu’s hand brushes the top of his pants, tugging the cloth down. “Let me make you feel good,” Junsu murmurs, “please, Yoochun.”

“You can,” Yoochun says, barely able to breathe as Junsu trails kisses down from Yoochun’s belly button, hands working in between his legs, “You know you can. You don’t ever need permission to take care of me.” 

And Yoochun doesn’t just mean with Junsu’s mouth.

 

— 

 

Two years later, Yoochun’s picked a bride. Miyoung is a pretty girl, a noble, and everything the King wants for his son, save for the fact that she likes Junsu quite a bit. She doesn’t know the details of his life before, and they don’t tell her, but she’s smart enough to pick up on it. She also has someone she loves more than Yoochun—it’s a political marriage, after all—and it’s Yoochun’s promise to let them see each other after Miyoung bears an heir that seals their agreement.

But what they don’t expect is for Miyoung to fall ill right after giving birth to their first child. While she may not be the love of his life, she is a good friend and someone he (and Junsu) depend upon, and for several nights all three of them are pushed to the limit, juggling official responsibilities, a new baby, and trying to keep Miyoung alive. The healers are especially unhelpful after they stabilize her, and predict a long road to recovery since they don’t know what caused her sudden illness.

The King tries very hard to frame Junsu, claiming he must have poisoned the princess out of jealousy, and Miyoung makes her slaves carry her to the throne room so she can laugh in the King’s face. 

“Don’t take out your frustration of my illness on one of the only two people in this entire castle that have actually been caring for me.” Yoochun thinks he’ll forever remember the look of pride on her face as she says this. 

The first night after this that she’s feeling relatively well, Yoochun does something he never thought he’d do and takes his Faerlamore to bed with his wife. Well, fine. It might have been Junsu’s idea, and Yoochun might have gotten an extremely nice blow job in return for agreeing, but still.

She’s still a bit weak for any rigorous activity, but Yoochun thinks they did just fine. The noises she makes as Yoochun cradles her from behind with lips to her neck and hands on her breasts while Junsu goes between her legs with his mouth and fingers are some of the sweetest things the prince has ever heard.

“Why?” she tries to ask. 

But Junsu kisses her gently as Yoochun whispers, “because you stood up for him.”

“I’ll have to do that more often,” Miyoung mumbles, and they laugh and kiss until Seungho starts to cry in the next room.

 

— 

 

When the King falls ill, and Yoochun has to take charge of the kingdom, he and Junsu spend a whole day crying in their room out of sheer relief. It’s perhaps terrible that Yoochun is glad, but all he has to do is look at the scars on Junsu’s body and the guilt fades away.

He doesn’t change anything major, knows he can’t right away, because if his father gets better soon it won’t make a difference. But Junsu’s happiness is infectious and Yoochun finds himself smiling more. He goes down to the slaves’ quarters for the first time in years and takes a quill and parchment with him, making a list of all the things he wants to change. He raises all the wages of the staff substantially, knowing his father hadn’t in a very long time, and for the first two weeks, ignores his father’s demands to come and bring him ledgers. “Rest and take care of yourself, Father,” he says, “we can talk business when you’re well again.” 

It’s a month of complete and utter bliss that’s not broken until the full moon, when Junsu puts Seungho to bed early and kneels in front of the prince, one hand resting on Yoochun’s right thigh as he smiles up at him. “Can you do something for me?”

“You know I’ll do anything for you.”

“I—“ a flicker of uncertainty passes across his face before the smile is back full force. He takes out the other hand he’d been hiding behind his back and Yoochun’s stomach flips over onto itself when he sees a small paddle that Junsu places onto the bed. “I want you to spank me.”

Yoochun blinks. “What?”

“I want you do bend me over your lap and smack my ass until it’s red. Please.”

Junsu’s hands have moved to cup the back of Yoochun’s knees, and he pulls, scooting forward a little, his smile growing even wider. “I want this.”

“You want me to hurt you.”

“No! Park Yoochun!”

“What? Junsu, I’m not—“ Yoochun swallows. He’s not his father. He’s not going to hit his friend, the love of this life. He cannot. Images flash through his mind unbidden and he starts to panic. He _cannot_.

“Yoochun, you need to do this, we both do.” Junsu says, “You need to realize that you aren’t your father. You need to trust yourself and I need to trust you. Your father abused me. He beat me. That’s not what I want from you and it’s not what I’m asking. You’re so sexy when you’re in control of the kingdom, Yoochun. You need to prove to yourself that you’re not a bastard, prove that you can remain in control of a situation. I want you to control me, my Prince. I cannot be your Faerlamore if you do not treat me like one.”

“I don’t need to spank you to be in control. I can’t—I can’t spank you. Please don’t ask me that.”

“You spank Seungho.” Junsu raises an eyebrow, “and I distinctly remember listening to you and Miyoung before she was sick. Something about how pretty her ass looks when it is red.”

“He’s my son,” Yoochun says, “and I use my hand and it’s only ever been a few swats. That’s completely different. And—and Miyoung—” Miyoung had asked him for it. In fact, had crawled over him naked and waved her ass in the air and told him she _loved_ being spanked and it would be great if he could do that for her because it really riles her up and she gets _so wet_ when there’s something smacking against her bottom. That had been surprisingly effective at getting him to acquiesce. 

“You’re not going to traumatize me,” Junsu continues, hands massaging Yoochun’s calves. “When I was training, I talked a lot about my experiences with your father.”

Yoochun is finally able to look Junsu in the eye. “What?”

“During Faerlamore training. I told them what happened, everything that he put me through. It’s not like the court isn’t aware of it, Yoochun. But they talked me through it. Master put me over his lap every single day and spanked me.”

“ _Who—_ ” Yoochun breathes, feeling his temper rise. Who touched his Faerlamore like that without his permission?

“No, no, it wasn’t in a bad way. It was—different. He stopped when I asked. It didn’t—hurt, so to speak. It wasn’t the same. He spanked me until I could compartmentalize—well, realize—the difference between abuse, _punishment_ , and a _spanking_. Yoochun-ah.”

Junsu finally abandons Yoochun’s legs and raises himself up onto his knees instead of resting back against his ankles. He cups Yoochun’s cheeks, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his mouth. Once. Twice. The third time Yoochun kisses back, finding he can’t help himself, and his fingers curl into Junsu’s shirt, gripping his sides.

“Master,” Junsu whispers, and Yoochun has no explanation for why the sound of that title goes straight to his cock. “Please. I want to erase all the unpleasant memories of your father and the touch of my teacher and just know you. I only ever want you to discipline me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Yoochun says, but feels himself caving.

“I’ve been good,” Junsu agrees, “but. We’re the center of attention now. The list of Faerlamore rules is several volumes thick and no matter how hard I study it, I can’t remember all of them at the same time. Eventually, I will fuck up, probably in front of someone important, and when that time comes we need to be prepared. I want to be able to shut my eyes and make myself hard and _enjoy_ the feeling of your hand or a belt or a paddle across my buttocks. Given my history, that is the only way for me to survive. Besides, my ass is great, or so you like to tell me. Why wouldn’t you want more opportunities to touch it?”

Yoochun’s laugh is weak and ends in a panicked strangle. Junsu’s right—they need to be prepared.

“I trust you,” Junsu kisses him again. “I will always trust you and I want to give myself over to you. Who knows. Maybe you can eventually tie me up and we can have really kinky sex without me freaking out. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Honestly, Yoochun would. And Junsu knows that because he’s Yoochun’s best friend and knows everything about it. Including all his weird ass kinks. He watches, mouth getting drier as Junsu strips his clothes off and climbs up onto Yoochun’s lap, straddling him and pressing their mouths together. “First order of business: get sufficiently aroused.”

It’s not difficult. Not with Junsu’s tongue in his mouth and hands in his hair and bare skin all over Yoochun. The prince is hard in minutes, hand sliding over Junsu’s own cock, gasping into his mouth and hoping maybe Junsu will decide he just wants sex, maybe Junsu will decide they can wait another day—

“Do you need a reason? Would that help?”

Yoochun garbles something as his cock is engulfed by Junsu’s mouth (Junsu’s awesome, super, wet, mouth,) and his back hits the bed hard as he gasps.

And then there’s pain.

Teeth.

“What the fuck, Junsu!”

Gods, does it hurt. And Junsu just licks his lips, which are red and wet, and Yoochun just wants to draw his hand back and—

“Sorry, Master. I’m inexperienced. You should teach me a lesson.”

Yoochun’s dick throbs painfully in agreement.

“Inexperienced my ass,” Yoochun mutters, “you little—“ And oh. Junsu’s grinning now, lips pulling across his face knowingly. Maybe it will make it easier. “Get up here.”

Junsu really does have a nice ass. Yoochun can’t help but smooth a hand over it gently, swallowing, wishing he could pound into it with his cock instead of pound it with his hand. His dick burns, though, and it’s only fair…

“Don’t tell me how many. I trust you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t you dare half-ass this, Park Yoochun.”

Yoochun doesn’t. He nearly has a panic attack when Junsu lets out a little cry of surprise, but he takes a deep breath and starts smacking whenever there’s an unpleasant sting on the skin of his cock—which is often. Junsu’s quiet in the beginning, when Yoochun’s going lightly, breathing hard through his nose and digging fingers into the bedding. It doesn’t take long for his ass to flush (it looks a lot nicer than Miyoung’s,) and there’s red starting to bloom across Junsu’s neck as he starts to sweat, exhaling hard, and when he starts to cry softly, Yoochun makes his swings count. Just a few, in the way Miyoung confided in him felt so good, like she thought he was gearing up for more but actually was at the end.

He doesn’t understand it but Junsu is so sexy like this. Yoochun can see all of him, the way his muscles twitch and the way his body tries to undulate out of the way of Yoochun’s swings, even though he can’t move much at all due to Yoochun’s grip on him. 

It’s getting to Yoochun’s head a little. The way Junsu rubs his face into the sheets and squirms and moans and _he’s hard_. They’re both hard and Yoochun can’t explain it really, besides admitting that anything Junsu does Yoochun will probably find sexy. 

He pets Junsu’s bottom when he finally puts the paddle down, murmuring softly, soothing. Yoochun feels his panic come back full force because _oh gods, please let this not have ruined everything_.

Yoochun pushes Junsu up a bit, laying him out on the bed and the prince bends down to kiss the raw skin. He smiles when Junsu gives him an appreciative moan. “Sexy,” Junsu slurs into the pillow. “Come here.”

The order is easy to follow and they squeeze their heads onto one pillow, their faces close together but far away enough so as not to be cross-eyed. “Bad?” Junsu asks. His cheeks are pink, thought not out of embarrassment, and his hair damp with sweat. But he looks blissed out, like he’s just come off an incredible orgasm and Yoochun had no choice but to inch in to kiss him. “No, then,” Junsu says, sounding pleased, and wiggles forward to press his forehead to Yoochun’s chest. Arms go around him easily.

“Good,” Yoochun agrees, “sexy. I don’t know why, though.”

“That’s fine. You didn’t lose control, and we’re both hard. Quite an accomplishment and good enough for me right now.”

“You going to do something about it?” Yoochun challenges. They should probably talk more about their _feelings_ and this entire episode in general, but Yoochun’s hard to the point of hurting (on top of his dick still smarting, a little,) and when he reaches for Junsu’s cock and watches his Faerlamore’s eyes flutter shut as he strokes it, the prince is sure talking can wait.

“If you’ll let me,” Junsu nods, “I will.”

“How about I give you another chance to suck me? Maybe with your ass burning you won’t scrape me this time.”

They get a little distracted with kissing before Junsu shuffles down and pushes aside Yoochun’s clothes again, kissing his cock, rubbing his tongue over the places his teeth had caused pain. “So good,” Yoochun breathes, letting Junsu press his legs open further and swallow him down in one go: a talent that will never cease to amaze him. Yoochun scratches Junsu’s scalp, winding fingers into his hair and thrusting gently into Junsu’s mouth, “so good. You’re such a good Faerlamore.” Praise, Yoochun has long since learned, arouses Junsu almost as much as someone touching him, especially when the praise is about _Junsu_ touching someone. “Your mouth is so nice, Junsu-yah, just like that. Good boy. You’re _so good_.”

He’d wanted to the return the favor, but Junsu is rutting hard agains the bed in time with each of Yoochun’s gentle thrusts in between his lips. He’s only bracing himself on one elbow, his other hand rubbing deliciously against Yoochun’s balls and it reaches a point where Yoochun cannot speak coherently. “Just—almost,” he manages, letting go of Junsu’s neck and gasping as his Faerlamore licks up the underside and tongues the slit, lapping eagerly at it a second before Yoochun comes.

He actually blacks out, coming back to himself seconds later to Junsu lying back down with his reddened ass in the air and pleading for Yoochun to touch him. 

Because he isn’t allowed to touch himself. For the first time in his life, Yoochun suddenly finds this law extremely sexy.

Yoochun turns himself around, hauling Junsu up onto his forearms and knees so he can stare at his butt. Junsu whines because he gets zero friction in this position, but Yoochun soothes him with another kiss to his toasty skin. “You really do have a nice ass, no matter what color it is.”

“Yoochun, _please_.”

His cum is still sliding wet on his body and he gathers it into his hand as he bites up Junsu’s butt, grinning at the resulting hisses. “If you insist.”

“Insist. Yes. Yes, please, I insist.”

Junsu keens when Yoochun slicks a hand in between his legs and drags his fingers against Junsu’s cock, all the while kissing his ass, mouthing his spine, letting his Faerlamore fuck into his hand. Yoochun sucks a mark into Junsu’s hip, smooths his palm down his thigh, and finally returns the favor, reaching around to get both of his hands on Junsu’s dick, sticky with their cum, sliding back and forth easily until Junsu shudders and spills over everything.

“Beautiful,” Yoochun whispers, nosing up Junsu’s spine, “so beautiful, Junsu.”

Somewhere in between kissing Junsu’s neck and his jaw and his cheek (and finally getting to his mouth,) his Faerlamore stops shaking. “Beautiful,” Yoochun says again, licking at Junsu’s mouth. “Are we okay?”

“Perfect,” Junsu sighs, looking even more satisfied than he had earlier. “We’re perfect. That was perfect.”

Yoochun’s too tired to do much beside kiss, damn the mess, so when even that gets too exhausting, he tucks Junsu into his arms and they just lay there, breathing.

“You are not your father,” Junsu tells him, whispering.

Yoochun swallows and tugs him closer. “I am not my father,” he repeats, and feels some of his heart piece back together.

— 

When Seungho tugs on his sleeve one morning and asks in a hushed voice why Yoochun has been spanking Junsu ( _What did he do? You don’t have to be so angry, right? Can’t you find another way to punish him? Spankings hurt._ ) Yoochun decides sexy spankings will be put on a temporary hold. 

He makes the mistake of telling Junsu this within hearing range of Jaejoong, Yunho’s Faerlamore who is visiting the palace while Yunho is away. Jaejoong spends a whole half hour chuckling about it, poking Junsu in amusement. Yoochun expects Junsu to blush, but to the prince’s surprise, Junsu just grins back, and bends his head in close to Jaejoong whispering, “let me tell you about all the things Yoochun does to me.”

And that precise moment is when Yoochun is grateful for Jaejoong’s friendship with Junsu. If it had been anyone else, Junsu would have been mortified. 

_Gods bless Heechul_ , Yoochun finds himself thinking, amazed. Though, it’s just like Heechul to pull a fast one on all of them, so Yoochun decides that he can’t be _too_ surprised. 

— 

When Yoochun finds Junsu bruised and crying in their room, he realizes he can be angrier than he had previously thought. He _is_ angrier. Angry at himself for not being here to stop the attack, angry at the man that committed it, and angry at the world for everything it’s ever done to the people he loves. 

He has to take a deep breath to calm himself before he can speak. Miyoung’s with Junsu, holding him tight and looking scared out of her mind, but she seems relatively unharmed.

And Yunho…

Yoochun has to swallow, never more grateful for his friend in his entire life. He’s sitting on top of an unconscious man, knife to his throat. The man is one of his father’s friends (a surprisingly predictable outcome) but Yoochun pays him no mind, only really caring about one person.

“Junsu?”

Yoochun’s knocked over from the force of Junsu barreling into him, clutching him, sobbing into his belly as he curls up onto the floor. “What happened?”

The prince doesn’t want to come to any conclusions without facts, but when Junsu can finally talk, Yoochun discovers his suspicions are correct. He very nearly orders Yunho to slit the man’s throat right then and there. But there’s protocol, and if the man is going to die, Yoochun would like for him to be awake.

“Did you see?” Yoochun asks Yunho, when Miyoung and Junsu are in bed, Seungho in between them, trying to get the Faerlamore to smile. The bloody clothes are thrown out, Junsu massaged and kissed and spoiled.

“A little, before I got over my shock and could intervene. Junsu fought him hard. He didn’t manage much beyond forcing him to kissand touching him inappropriately, that I saw. Not that it should be taken lightly, but that wasn’t Junsu’s blood on the clothes. You should be most concerned over what the man said.”

Yoochun raises an eyebrow.

“That Junsu is not seen as more than a whore. That he is someone for the whole court to enjoy.”

The prince has to take another deep breath to get himself under control. It is indeed a problem, if that’s the court’s impression of a Faerlamore.

“I wish I knew how to fix this for you, but I don’t. If there’s anything you need, Yoochun, let me know.”

“You have enough to worry about in your own household. Find yourself a Faerlamore, Yunho, then come and ask me to fix my problems.” He feels marginally terrible for yelling, but Yunho leaves with a smile and Yoochun thinks he’ll just be sure to send Yunho a gift as an apology.

“I have to set an example,” Yoochun says, when Seungho’s curled up against Junsu and they’re both sleeping in between Yoochun and Miyoung. All four of them are cushioned easily on the massive bed.

“You do,” Miyoung agrees, taking his hand and threading their fingers together over Junsu’s side, feeling him breathe.

 _I’m so thankful that he’s breathing_.

“I don’t—I am not my father.”

“You are not,” Miyoung agrees, nodding, “but you cannot allow this to go unpunished.”

Yoochun nods, suddenly tired himself, and he squeezes her hand once before joining his small family in sleep.

In the morning, he oversees an execution.

“Junsu is an extension of my body,” he tells the court. “When you touch him, you touch me. When you speak to him, you speak to me. He is royalty, and will be treated as such. That means if you hurt him, you are punished as though you had hurt me. I hope that there will no longer be any misunderstanding of this.”

By their stricken faces, he doesn’t think there’s going to be.

 

— 

 

When the King doesn’t get better, and the healers prostrate themselves in front of Yoochun and say there’s nothing more that they can do, Yoochun takes Junsu by the hand and they visit their ailing father together.

He doesn’t acknowledge Junsu at all. Yoochun doesn’t like it, but it does mean that the King does not say anything cruel. He doesn’t say anything to him, and that’s all Junsu’s ever wanted, Yoochun knows.

“This isn’t quite how I imagined my end,” the King says, “but I’m not worried. Yoochun,” He takes Yoochun hand, gives it a squeeze. “I’m proud of the son I raised. You will be a great king.”

Yoochun’s eyes sting but he refuses to let any tears fall. He is stronger than that. “Thank you, father.”

“I may not approve of everything you do, but I am at least wise enough to recognize that despite my feelings, you’ve been doing a fine job.”

Somewhere in the midst of them talking, Junsu slips away. Seungho comes and goes, as does Miyoung, and then they’re alone again and without distraction, Yoochun talks to his father like he’s always wanted to be able. He may not have liked his father, but there is enough respect between them for Yoochun to make sure that in his last moments, the King is not alone.

The King dies in his sleep, his hand held tightly in both of his son’s.

 

— 

 

“You are not your father.”

Yoochun nods, fingers brushing against Junsu’s.

The priests are performing some rituals that Yoochun’s never bothered to understand, chanting loud and near overwhelming. The crowns he and Miyoung will wear are being blessed and sprinkled with some sort of herb. There’s also a circlet of gold meant for Junsu, as a sign that the is a part of Yoochun and one of silver for Taeyeon, as a sign that she a part of Miyoung. 

They sit as they are crowned, because royalty kneels only to other royalty. Junsu and Taeyeon both kneel in front of Yoochun. Tradition dictates the King place their circlets on them both, but Yoochun’s never really been one for tradition, so he and Junsu help Miyoung up and she rests her weight on Yoochun as she lays the circlet into Taeyeon’s intricately woven hair.

“Beautiful,” Yoochun murmurs into his wife’s ear, before resting her back in the chair. She’s gotten much more vibrant in the years since Seungho’s birth, but her legs have never quite recovered. She still has immense difficulty standing on them and walking is entirely out of the question. Changmin, the clever bastard, had given them a coronation present a few nights ago that was chair with wheels so she could either have someone push her around in it, or, once she strengthened her arms, propel herself. Miyoung had cried for an hour straight, she’d been so happy.

The feast is the most magnificent spread of food Yoochun’s ever seen in his life. He eats until he feels like bursting, feeding Junsu everything he wants to try. He doesn’t even have to worry about Miyoung, having given Taeyeon special permission to sit beside her queen to help her eat. 

Half way through dinner, Seungho comes to sit on Junsu’s lap, Hyunwoo trailing behind him, and Yoochun directs the young boy (that will more than likely be Seungho’s Faerlamore,) to go and sit with his father. Changmin’s going to be watching the Prince that evening anyway, Yoochun intending to spend the evening with his wife and their two Faerlamores, celebrating.

Changmin looks ecstatic from where he’s sitting, holding his son close and shooting Yoochun a look of pure gratitude.

 _I am not my father_ , Yoochun thinks, pleased.

Junsu leans over Seungho’s head to kiss Yoochun’s knee, like he knows Yoochun’s thoughts. Perhaps he does.

 

— 

 

“Now you can really fix everything,” Junsu tells him.

Miyoung and Taeyeon have long fallen asleep, their naked bodies covered with blankets and sheets as they cuddle on Yoochun’s enormous bed. Once Yoochun gets tired, there will be more than enough room for all four of them—there certainly had been a few hours earlier, and they hadn’t even been sleeping. He and Junsu had moved their nakedness to the couch so as to let them sleep undisturbed. 

“I’m going to,” Yoochun nods, “this will be the greatest kingdom anyone has ever seen.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Yoochun trails a finger over Junsu’s shoulder, lingering a moment over a hickey he’d sucked into it earlier. Junsu has always liked marks where people can see them. “I wouldn’t have been able to do anything if not for you. You’re like my backbone. You keep me supported and honest.”

Junsu snorts. “Is that what I am to you?”

Yoochun kisses his bare shoulder, “You’re everything to me.” 

“I know,” Junsu grins.

Yoochun means to pinch his side but Junsu twists and Yoochun ends up getting a handful of Junsu’s ass instead. Not that he’s complaining. “Didn’t get enough of me earlier?”

“Never get enough of you,” Yoochun says. He raises Junsu’s hand to his mouth and kisses his wrists. They’d tied him to the bed earlier and Yoochun hopes there won’t be any bruises.

“Yoochun, if you don’t kiss me on my mouth—“

They make out for five minutes, maybe ten, before there’s an irritated cough form above them and Yoochun pulls his lips away to find Taeyeon standing in front of them, hands on her very naked hips. “Yes?”

“Miyoung says if you’re going to make out than at least come back to bed. It’s not nice to ignore us.”

Yoochun chuckles, even as Junsu sneaks a hand up to grab at Taeyeon’s breast and brush his thumb across a nipple. “Are you jealous?”

Taeyeon blushes, squirming a little under Junsu’s hand and while Yoochun’s always like cocks better, female body parts do indeed have their own merit. “Cute,” Junsu coos, and pinches her gently, “we’re coming.”

“We are?” Yoochun asks, amused.

“Well, I am,” Junsu says, and when he stands, Yoochun can see that he’s already half-hard. He bends down a bit to kiss Taeyeon full on the lips, and she lets out a squeak when he gets a hand in between her legs. “No pressure,” Junsu adds, grinning as Taeyeon melts under his ministrations, biting into his shoulder.

“Excuse me!” Miyoung says from the bed, “I will not be ignored!”

But Junsu’s terribly busy with Taeyeon, propping her up on the couch and sliding his fingers into her at an angle that makes her keen. Yoochun’s only partly jealous. He has his own pretty queen, after all, and he sinks down onto the bed beside her, cupping her face to give her a kiss. “Not where I want your hands, boy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yoochun returns smoothly, turning her a bit so he can land a hard smack on her ass.

“Not there either, gorgeous, although that isn’t half bad.” 

He’s about to do it again when he gets an idea. “Junsu, come here!”

Taeyeon looks extremely put out, but when Yoochun tugs her up against his back and replaces Junsu’s fingers with his own, she sighs happily. “So good. You’re both so good.”

“Aren’t they?” Miyoung murmurs, “I’m very unhappy that I’m not being touched right now. What is this?”

Yoochun slides two fingers into Taeyeon, grinning as she moans. “You wanted a spanking. I thought Junsu could give it to you. And Taeyeon and I will watch. I’ll let her come when you do.” He crooks his fingers, cupping one of Taeyeon’s breasts, and whispers, “won’t that be nice?”

“Then just touch me,” Miyoung demands, “who needs a spanking?”

“You,” Yoochun says, “Go get something to smack her with, Junsu.”

“And what exactly did I do?” Miyoung asks. “I didn’t say precisely that I want—“

“Do you really need a reason?”

She doesn’t. Miyoung loves it, she loves laying over someone’s lap and feeling the sting of something against her ass. Yoochun thinks it’s partly because a spanking sends tingles down her legs until she can’t feel them anymore. If Yoochun’s lucky, he can send feeling down to her knees. And that’s what she loves most about it.

Taeyeon wiggles against him, pressing her hips down, clearly close to coming and Yoochun pulls his fingers out, ignoring her protest and cupping her gently. “Not yet, precious. You have to wait.”

“Evil,” she gasps, when Yoochun pinches a nipple.

“Isn’t he?” Junsu says.

It’s not Junsu’s first time smacking someone. He’d landed a few experimental swats on Yoochun’s ass before, and also on Taeyeon. He’d also taken on the responsibility of tutoring Hyunwoo, and the little brat is perhaps as cheeky as his father and that has already ending in a few spankings for the young child.

But they’ve never done anything quite like this.

Junsu has Miyoung’s hairbrush in his hand and as they all look at it, Yoochun can hear Taeyeon’s breath quicken a little and a bit of her wetness slips out into Yoochun’s hand. He brushes past her clit and her moan is a catalyst, Junsu pulling Miyoung across his lap. When he smacks her, Yoochun doesn’t touch Taeyeon, save for her breasts, and it’s only when Junsu pauses his assault with the brush and slides fingers in between Miyoung’s legs to give her a moment to catch her breath, that Yoochun does the same. Taeyeon’s so wet, and Yoochun can get three fingers into her easily. She’s incredibly desperate, whining when Yoochun pulls away, body jerking with the sound of each smack. She lets out a sob when she finally hears Miyoung come against Junsu’s ministrations and Yoochun shoves four fingers into her, pushing her back onto pillows and a single lick has her squirting out all over his face. Once is never enough for either of them, but Yoochun doesn’t want to touch her anymore. 

He just wants Junsu. He pushes Taeyeon at Miyoung and she goes willingly, their hands already seeking other out Taeyeon’s mouth attaching to Miyoung’s breast and that’s the last Yoochun sees of them, his vision filled with Junsu. Yoochun’s hand is wet with Taeyeon still, but they need oils all the same, and the women’s moaning spurs Yoochun to move fast as he fetches it, nearly dropping the tiny pot when he gets back to the bed and Junsu’s stroking himself while he watches Taeyeon’s head working in between Miyoung’s legs.

“Slow poke,” he accuses (gasps,) as Yoochun sinks fingers into him.

“Shut up.”

“Just get in me. It’s not like it’s been weeks. It’s only been a couple hours.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

“You take any more time, Park Yoochun, and you’re the next person I’m going to go at with a hairbrush.”

“If the public knew how you speak to your king.”

But he pulls his fingers out after crooking them once and getting Junsu to shut up, teeth digging into his lip. Yoochun hears Miyoung shout next to them and it spurs him on because he is not going to let his wife’s Faerlamore best him.

Junsu feels gloriously around him, and Yoochun moans in appreciation because certainly, cock and ass are just _so nice_. They are so incredibly nice, and Junsu feels so incredibly good sucking him in. It’s like he doesn’t he have to move. But…

“Move, Park Yoochun, right now.”

So Yoochun does. He’s only half aware of the sounds coming from beside them (still!) and he rocks into Junsu in time with them until he can’t keep a rhythm anymore and spills into Junsu with a shout, aided by Junsu’s gentle bite to his ear. His Faerlamore knows all his spots and they never fail to get him, even after all this time. He has to catch his breath a moment before he can move down and get his mouth on Junsu’s cock. He can’t deep throat like Junsu, but Yoochun’s been told he’s very good with his tongue and when he slides his fingers back into his Faerlamore it isn’t long until Junsu’s muffling a scream into a pillow.

When Yoochun glances at Miyoung after wiping his mouth, he finds Taeyeon’s head on her breasts, Miyoung’s fingers in her hair, clearly having enjoyed the scene. Yoochun feels proud he’d made Junsu last longer than them. He collapses in beside Miyoung and arranges a sluggish Junsu so the two Faerlamores are pressed together and caught up in the arms of their masters. 

“Now can we sleep?” Miyoung asks, eyebrow raised.

Yoochun reaches out and cups her cheek, both of them heedless of the cum and sweat covering their bodies. “Pretty,” he murmurs, deciding against full sentences. He kisses Junsu’s forehead and gets a happy hum. “Are you alright?” He pets her bottom, which is a brilliant shade of red.

“Junsu’s arm is twice as nasty as yours,” she replies, and then smiles, “but I’m perfect.”

“If you’re as good as being King as you are with your fingers,” Taeyeon murmurs, “we’re set for life.”

“Good King,” Junsu murmurs, as hey chuckle, “so good. Better than anyone else.”

He raises his head from Yoochun’s chest and his eyes hold a serious air that isn’t hard to decipher.

_You are not your father_

Yoochun nods.

He will never be.

He kisses Junsu once and pets Miyoung’s bottom again, earning him a hiss, and he closes his eyes to Taeyeon telling Miyoung if she doesn’t shut up she’ll put a another spanking on top of the one she already has. Junsu kisses Yoochun’s neck as the squabbling dies down (after a smack or two.) 

“Love you,” Junsu murmurs.

“Love you too,” Yoochun says, and when he feels Taeyeon’s foot kick his shin, he amends, “love all of you.”

But Junsu, most of all. The smile they share means he doesn’t have to say it out loud. Life is good.

Finally.


End file.
